


Tic-Tac-Toe

by AlzeahXei



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010), Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, attempted humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:19:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlzeahXei/pseuds/AlzeahXei
Summary: 'A characteristic of the normal child is he doesn’t act that way very often.' - AnonymousAdults, beware.





	1. Finders Keepers

Honolulu Police Department was up all night, busting a trafficking ring of drugs and marine wildlife. It was a lucky day for them too, since a) Five-0 wasn’t invited to the bust and was not around, so less property demolition and people licking injuries other than their wounded pride, and b) the perps were actually distracted because they lost one of the merchandises – a baby seal (already sold and paid in cash).

But that’s news for another time.

John’s eyes are barely open as he trudged through the threshold the afternoon later, his muscles cranky and mind woozy. He might have greeted Stiles as he drags his feet into his bedroom (or Stiles tugging his hand into the RIGHT bedroom). He blacked out the moment he falls onto the bed.

The next time he wakes up the sun is just about to set. John blinks at the sun sinking into one cloud after another as his mind sluggishly reviews the events prior his sleep. It is only after shower and shaving that John deems himself awake enough to search for his son.

Who is not in his bedroom, and the rest of apartment is disturbingly empty of a five years old.

“Stiles?” John calls out as he races down the stairs, occasionally stopping to ask the neighbors that came into his path about Stiles’ whereabouts. Finally it was Mrs. Kealoha who told him that Stiles has been busy with his ‘girlfriend’ (John dryly laughs off her waggling brows), traipsing to and fro the beach and the car park.

John’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the blue jeep’s opened windows and the makeshift stepladder of bricks and crate. He nearly trips over the next step when the head of a _seal_ pops up like Jack-in-the-box, barking at him.

John then wished he never had gotten up today. Especially not to the sight of water leaking out between the cracks of the jeep and a baby seal sliding expertly between the seats and steering wheel. His face was buried in his palm as the seal sniffs in his general direction and honking for attention.

There was a flurry of slippers slapping the asphalt pavement. And then they come to an immediate halt. “Oh.” Stiles greets.

“Yes, oh. Hello to you too, Grace.” John clamps both hands on the hip, a brow rose to the middle of his forehead. “Mind explaining to me what is going on, kiddo?”

Sea water no longer sloshed out of the bucket as it swings to a stop. John watches as Stiles goes to a myriad of plans with the purse of his lips and furrow of his brows.

Finally Stiles settles with “Finders keepers?”


	2. Bubbles

The tub in Mr. Adam’s house is huge, and so is the collection of bubble bath products.

Stiles turns to Grace with an ear-splitting grin. “Do you want to build a snowman?”

Grace’s eyes are as large as saucers. “With bubbles?”

Stiles’ chin dips resolutely.

Grace contemplates for a while. She takes a glance around the bathroom, at the door, at the tub, at the hallway that leads them back to the garden, and finally at the soaps.

“Okay.”

By the times two worried fathers and the rest of the adults attending the barbeque party found them, the bathroom was filled with white bubbles as high as their shins.

There are multiple sculptures around – snowmen, teddy bears, a few from the animal kingdom. Somehow the Bubble Eiffel Tower stands proudly sturdy despite the rest of the bubbles popping away around it.

“Dad!” Stiles shouts out, both hands in the air. “Look, I’m a shark!”

The tip of his hair wobbles and sags pathetically to the side.

Steve is the first to snort. “You call that a shark kid?” He folds up the cargo pants. “Let me show you how it’s really done. And what you’re going to be, Gracie?”


	3. (Best) Friends

Stiles occasionally visits Uncle Tony in Manhattan and stays for a few nights. Sometimes all the members of Avengers are there to greet him; sometimes only Dummy, U and Butterfingers and Jarvis are there to play and wait with him until one or another Avenger comes back from a mission.

Stiles rarely sees Uncle Rhodey too – active military and all – but he knows the man and Uncle Tony are friends. Best of friends.

So it is a pleasant surprise when Uncle Rhodey enters the workshop and pats Stiles on the head. “Hey munchkin.” He peers at Stiles’ lap. “What are you looking at?”

“Uncle’s degree.” Stiles picks one up to specify. “It’s his Ph.D. degrees.” Stiles squints at the words. “What does Ph.D. means Rhodey?”

Rhodey slants a glance at Tony. At his messy hair tinged with oil and manic eyes with saggy bags from lack of sleep. Again.

“Well,” Rhodey starts. “It means Pig-headed Doctor.”

“Pig?”

“Yep. You see, Tony is an engineer, right? He tears through stuffs looking over them and fixes them up later – like a doctor. But the problem with doctors once in a while,” Rhodey waves his hand around the workshop. “They get this binge to work until they drop. They don’t eat, they don’t clean, they ignore everyone else. And the professor will pass whoever turns out as a pig instead of zombie in the end.” Rhodey’s eyes are twinkling at Stiles’ rapt attention. “The degree is like a proof that says: yes, this urban legend is true. Juniors, have fun!”

A plier soars through the air, hits Rhodey at the back of his head and falls clattering on the floor.

“What BS are you feeding my nephew this time, honey bear?” Tony’s grin is saccharine, but the glint in his eyes indicates otherwise. That, or it’s the reflection of lights from the hologram plans circling him.

Rhodey mocks a whisper to Stiles. “He’s just upset he didn’t get MVPh.D., Mean Vanguard. He didn’t get to lead in parades.”

“Rhodes,” There is an edge in Tony’s voice as he wraps his arm around Rhodey’s shoulder and squeezes not-so-subtly on his neck.

Stiles stares as two adults wrestles. Then he nods decisively and stood on his toes, torso leaned forward and hand reaching out to pat Tony’s rat nest.

“It’s okay, Uncle Tony. You’ll always be the most beautiful pig to me. More than Miss Piggy. And I like you better than puck-puge-pu…” Stiles gives the ceiling a hopeful look.

“Pudgy?” Jarvis suggests.

“Pudgy! Thank you Jarvis.”

“My pleasure, Stiles.” There is mirth dancing in Jarvis voice.

Tony gives Stiles a stinky stare and pouts. “Did you just compare me to a muppet?” Behind him, Rhodey is laughing himself silly.

 

o.o.o₰o.o.o

 

They are watching The Emperor’s New Groove after dinner. Or, at least, Stiles and Rhodey are the ones still watching the movie. Tony is drooping over the next loveseat, snoring the night away.

“See Stiles,” Rhodey comments as the credits roll. “If your fall into a hole, friends help you get back up. Best friends, however, laugh at your idiocy first and leave you in the hole for the night.”

Stiles nods. Pepper said Rhodey’s words usually make more sense than anyone else in this tower. When she’s not around to supervise, that is. Stiles then angles his head over a thought. “And if they scold and nag for the entire night?”

“Well, not to be stereotyping here, but that’s a job for the wife.”

Stiles remembers the scenes in which Steve gets hurt and Danno screaming until his face is all ruddy. And Kono’s mumbles that married couples should just finish their banters back home as she left with Chin.

“You’re right!” Stiles beams, and is echoed by Rhodey.

“I know! Did you record that down, J? I’m gonna lord Tony for this.”


	4. Mother's woe

Stiles has seen pregnant mothers before. One moment their tummy were larger than hot air balloon, next they have one or two wailing babies in their hands.

“But how did the baby comes out?” Stiles wonders aloud one day.

In the dining room. Of X-Mansion.

During dinner.

Someone has choked on their sopa seca. There is glass breaking somewhere at the end of the table. The metals are rattling ominously. Professor X’s shoulders’ are shaking.

“Beast, shouldn’t you be an expert on this?” Bobby notes from his seat, grinning apologetically at the heated glare tossed at him from the other side of the table. Next to him, Rogue is choking on her own laughter.

“I thought Professor X was the one studying about human biology?” Dani pipes out.

“Neither of us are obstetricians, children.” Beast growls out. The blue on his cheeks a tinge darker.

“Well, someone must have knowledge about human reproduction right?” Doug adds.

“Stiles,” Ororo cuts in before this situation dissolves too deep into awkward moments that leech into their mind. Forever.

“Babies come out from the hole between the women’s legs, petite.” Remy concludes. When there is no round of applause, he turns to meet the stunned stare from half the table and exasperated glare from the other half. “What?”

Stiles only twisted his lips in thoughts. “Like poop?”

“Like po–OWW, what was that for?” Remy gives Scott a petulant pout as he rubs his bruised arm.

“Mothers must be busy,” Stiles states sympathetically as he takes another bite of noodle. “Since every time they poop a baby comes out.” Stiles pats Kitty beside him on the shoulder. “Be careful.”

This time there is nothing to stop the burst of laughter bouncing off the walls and filling the mansion.

Some are wheezing by the time there is a slight subside. Professor X lowers his hand from his mouth, revealing a grin behind his fingers. “So, who wants to start on reproductive biology?”

Logan snorts into his beer. “Not me. I’m not drunk enough to teach _that_ history.”


	5. Jewelry

It’s time for bed. Both father and son are done brushing their teeth when someone knocks the door.

Upon opening reveals Steve and Danny. Standing shoulder to shoulder (or shoulder to bicep, in Danny case).

“Hi Johnny. Bed time?” Danny raises his right hand in greeting.

John nods, the corner of his lips twitches. “Yes. You boys need something?” His gaze dips pointedly at the spaces between them.

Steve’s fingers tapping a measured rhythm on his thigh, and Danny’s shoulders sag. It’s their frowns that shout ‘BAD DAY! DON’T ASK!’ to the rest of the world, and there is only so few things that couldn’t tickle John’s funny bone.

His lips stretch wide at the twin homicidal glare thrown at him.

Finally Danny sighs. “Mind helping us out?” His free hand flaps at their handcuffed wrist. The chain rattles with every movement.

“Isn’t Kamekona on the shorter route?”

“Apparently he has off days,” Danny grouses under his breath, for fear of actually cussing out loud if he uses normal speaking tones. “And he decided to take it today.”

John huffs out a chuckle and finally turns on his feet to retrieve the key. He ruffles Stiles’ hair as he passed, while his son continues to stare at the handcuff.

The handcuff that defies all nature of physics. Because there is a knot in the middle.

Stiles’ brows scrunch. Then he looks at both adult and back to the knot again.

“What it is, kid?” Steve leans on the frame with a wry grin.

“Won’t it be more convenient to use rings to tie knot?” Stiles points out. “Unless you don’t mind sharing the toilet.”

Of course John heard his son. Of course he’s going to laugh unrepentantly as Danny splutters for an explanation.


	6. First Impression

It had been a long first day at kindergarten for Derek Hale.

He couldn’t fathom why the girls were pulling hair and kicking a fuss just to take the seat next to him. By the time Miss Jones had them separated, Makani had taken the seat and took the brunt of glares from the female population in the classroom (though Makani was far from noticing).

At least Uncle Peter was on time to pick him up today.

He doesn’t want to indulge on the ‘or else’ scenarios. It’s traumatizing.

As he is about to cross the den, his nose picks up on the unfamiliar scent, and is promptly followed up by the appearance of a baby crawling from under the coffee table.

A naked, beaming, not-pack baby.

The baby’s limbs rock and the bottom crashes hard on the floor, confirming the gender.

_(The baby is a he!)_

The baby gurgles at Derek, attempts to speak but unable to use proper words or language. Yet. But it’s not hard to understand what he wants, with both arms waggling in air. It’s the gesture universally known as ‘Up!’.

Derek wrinkles his nose as the foreign scent but picks the baby up nonetheless. He’s certain this baby and Cora are at the same age, where not falling for their demands means a load of headaches later. And he hates baby’s agonized shrieking beside his ears.

“Who are you?” Derek asks as he tries to secure the baby in his arms like his parents had taught him, but the baby wriggles and flails and rocks, trying to scale this new toy. “Hey, stop it! I’m gonna drop you. Stop!”

The baby’s head tips forward and knocks his lips to Derek’s teeth. The pain jars both Derek and the baby still, until the baby starts laughing and pats Derek on his cheeks.

“Glad you’re not in pain.” Derek grumbles as his tongue slides by aching gum.

He’s too focused on checking for blood that he doesn’t realize the baby’s body shudders. By the time the bottom of his shirt and trousers are warm and wet, and pungent scent of ammonia taps his nose, it was too late.

Talia walks into the den to the sight of a shocked Derek holding Stiles on arms’ length. “Oh dear, this is where he’d went to.”

There is a slight betrayed furrow in Derek pinched look as he turns to her. “Ma, he peed on me.”

Talia politely covers her smile as she takes in her son drenched clothing. “Since Stiles managed to not only leave the playpen, but his clothes and diaper as well, I’d suspected something like this would happen. I just didn’t expect him to pee on someone.”

“He hates me?” Derek gives Stiles to Talia and glares disdainfully at the wet spot sticking to his skin.

Talia’s laugh is parroted by Stiles. “No. Sometimes babies just couldn’t help themselves and many accidents happen.” She nuzzles her nose under Stiles’ jaw, earning another cringe-worthy shriek. “Babies usually are bad at first impressions. But it’ll get better. You’ll see.” She then shoos Derek off to change his clothes while Stiles is back to the playpen.

Later Derek learns that Talia is babysitting for an old friend.

The second or third impressions don’t turn out better though, not when he’s the victim of vomited milk and farting. At least Stiles is a common presence that soon he smells like pack too, and pack takes care of each other, despite how disgusting the other person is.


End file.
